


As Good As Real

by SunnyD_lite



Category: SGA - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Sn 4, pre slash or Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-13
Updated: 2008-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys go exploring, sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Good As Real

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: McKay/Sheppard pre slash or gen  
> Prompt: **tamingthemuse** # 112 Eidetic  
> A/N: As always, hugs to my beta **spiralleds**

Summary: The guys go exploring, sort of.

 

  
"Colonel, I need your assistance in Lab SW-24," buzzed McKay's voice in his ear.

"Not signed up for light switch duty today, Rodney." Although as he looked at the IOAs required reports, he thought maybe being a light switch wouldn't be that bad. And he did have a few days before the next Earth bound databurst. "McKay, where was that?"

"Were you not listening? How can you not be listening?"

"Public channel McKay, want to give me a destination or I can pack up my marbles and stay home."

"If you're talking marbles, I think you're already missing a few. All right, as I said it's SW24."

"Fine, see you in twenty."

"Twenty? Well if you're going to take that long you'd better be bearing coffee."

"Sheppard, out." And if he happened to swing by the mess to grab one of their portable thermoses and a few cookies, well it was mid afternoon when he often got the munchies.

Nothing to do with a certain cranky request at all.

#

The transporter took him most of the way there. And 'there' turned out to be a fairly unused section of the City. "McKay, has this area even been cleared yet?"

"Which time, Colonel? It was one of the original sweeps but deemed too damp. One thing about unshielded space flight, great for drying damp basements."

"Somehow I don't see that as a viable handyman solution, but I'll keep it in mind."

The thrust and parry of their discussion was off-set by McKay holding out his empty coffee mug and him quietly refilling the same. He held back on the cookies though. No need to go overboard.

"Well there's something this way," McKay took a quick sip from his travel mug, "that I think you should see."

"Space Gun?" The odds were against it, but Pegasus odds would make Vegas bookies weep.

"No, Mr. Penile Substitute, it's not a space gun."

"That's Colonel and you should be pleased that I've got a keen interest in your ongoing protection."

"Well, yes, I suppose if you were to look at it from that… Oh that's it. No more smirking. It's not a space gun, it's a... " Despite the high level of hand waving and over three years in the McKay sign language   
emersion program, Sheppard had no idea what this particular pattern of hand movements meant.

They paused in front of a door, a door not too far from another transporter exit. Sheppard tilted his head in that direction and ground out, "McKay?"

"I know it's early, or really late but that's not the issue. It took a bit longer than I thought but I think that you'll agree it was worth the wait."

The only proper response to that was the eyebrow of doom. "McKay, noun?"

"Oh, just go in!" How had he missed the underlying excitement? Whatever this was, it was big.

He stepped into a large room, one of the largest he'd seen here, but the space was eaten up with several structures build out of the walls. He counted five hooded areas, and began to move towards one of them. Just before entering, John looked over his shoulder and noted that Rodney was bouncing just like when he'd hit the first Starbucks on Earth leave. Clearly this was something he'd have to examine more closely.  
He walked into the first hooded area and could feel his cheeks stretch as he took in the familiar, tight, surroundings. It had been ages since he'd been at the stick of a Cobra. He let his hand rest on the stick, flick a few of the toggles counted down from four, three, two, and—

"Hey, don't touch anything!"

Good to know that McKay was as reliable as old faithful.

"Colonel! I just mean that you've got to initialize the interface first. I've added some extra features to the regular simulator programming. " McKay was at the end of the hood. "And you should check out the others!" His tone was as gleeful as when he'd first used the personal shield.

"Others?" Right, there'd been a few of these hoods. Giving the cockpit a caress, he withdrew. "So?"

"Well, in alphabetical order we've an Apache, a Black Hawk, you've found the Cobra, an Osprey and an X302. I convinced Sam that keeping the pilots qualified while they're here only made sense."

His birds. McKay had brought him his birds to play with. He started going through each of them, greeting each set up like he would the various horses in the barn where he'd grown up. Each loved, each requiring a different touch. A part of him realized that McKay was doing an anguished hover, rather than the excited hover he'd been dancing earlier. Sheppard turned, raising an eyebrow at him.

"It's just...Well, I wanted there to be an F/A 18E, but Sam insisted that no-one here would be flying them. That they'd been retired or something. I guess your military does get all the new toys. Canada just seems to throw on some duct tape and bailing wire."

The Superhornet, his first fighter jet. "So, just when did you hack into my file?" He smirked as McKay sputtered in the background. Not that he was too upset. McKay got him. And if a little unauthorized viewing got him **this**... He shrugged.

"They wouldn't just send data cards or pdfs of the flight manuals so," and here there was the sound of a foot hitting a cardboard box, "I'll just leave you to sort through the hard copies."

"No need." He slipped into the Osprey's seat like it was an old pair of jeans; he loved the VSLOT of this one. While carving through the sky like a bird was one thing, the ability to hover like a brick without falling always tickled the contrarian in him.

"What do you mean, no need? Sam said something about written exams as well as simulator time needed to maintain your qualifications. The SGC can give actual fight hours a pass since they refused to send full copters but..."

"Ah, McKay, did you try to get me an aviary?" Not that he'd give up the puddle jumpers, but this was like his personal flight history sitting here.

"Yes, I mean no, good of the expedition-" There went McKay's semaphores. "But, manuals!"

"Already read them. Eidetic memory."

"Eidetic! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" The explosion wasn't over yet. "No wonder you're so good at Prime/Not Prime. That's akin to cheating!"

"Is not." No need to mention he had reviewed a list of Prime Numbers once Ford had complained about the game.

"But! But! You always get lost! Ronan's always having to show you where the Gate is."

Sheppard turned to see a smug McKay with his arms crossed. As if that was proof. "McKay, trees. I only get lost in trees. But I'll make sure the others get the manuals." This was beyond cool. He fiddled with the Apache's night vision helmet. And McKay had done it for him. "What did you mean early or really late?"

"Well," McKay began inspecting one of the setups, definitely avoiding eye contact, "by the time I figured out what I should get you for your birthday last year, who knew the military would take so long to provide the supplies and then re-writing the simulation code to work with Atlantis' systems and give the proper physical feedback so, Happy Unbirthday?"

Really for him. He shouldn't be surprised. It's not like he wouldn't do the same for Rodney, for his team, but... what the hell had he given McKay for his birthday? How do you thank someone for this? Words weren't enough. He was always more of an action guy, anyway. "Cookie? Chocolate chocolate chip, still warm?"

A hum of pleasure was the only answer he needed.


End file.
